


Begin Again

by benicemurphy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Flirting, Halloween, House Party, Light Angst, M/M, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Slutty Halloween Costumes, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-15 23:51:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21261665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benicemurphy/pseuds/benicemurphy
Summary: The last thing Shiro expects when he shows up to the party is to find a ghost from his past.





	Begin Again

**Author's Note:**

> My gift for the W&G server spooky exchange! [Tea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtForRogue) requested Shiro in a slutty costume! I hope this fits with what you were looking for 🙈

Shiro should have known better than to trust Matt and Veronica with anything, ever. He should have known when they invited him to a Halloween party and helped him pick out his costume that agreeing to do something outside of his comfort zone would be a bad idea.

He _should_ have known, but of course, he didn’t actually figure it out until it was way, way too late.

Well, hindsight is twenty-twenty, he figures as he looks around the room full of people decidedly _not_ wearing Halloween costumes.

It just fucking figures that he somehow managed the pick the skankiest costume he could find to wear to this not-costume party.

The grins on his so-called friends faces as they skitter away will haunt him until the day he dies, he’s sure. It’s par for the course for their relationship, though; he and Matt have been pulling this kind of shit on each other since they were kids, and Veronica owed him revenge for when he set her up on a blind date without actually informing her it was a date. She still managed to get laid, but apparently if she had known it was a date, she would have tried harder. It seems a little circular to Shiro, considering it had gone considerably well, but he doesn’t pretend to understand her logic.

Whatever. This is why he doesn’t date women.

It’s a good thing, too, because the number of looks he’s getting from the majority of the women in the room right now might be enough to have him turning and running the other way on any normal day. Right now, though, he’s more concerned about the handful of straight guys who are glaring daggers at him. He isn’t here for a fight — if it were up to him, he probably wouldn’t be here at all — so he does his best to avoid eye contact bee-lines straight for the counter covered in liquor bottles.

If he stops to think too hard about it, he might realize that it hasn’t been appropriate to wear a super sexy firefighter costume anywhere, even to an actual costume party, since he graduated college. It’s too late now, though, and he’s going to have to resist the urge to dig his teeny tiny shorts out of his ass all night.

On the bright side, it’s very warm inside the house, which makes his shirtless suspenders almost seem practical, except for the fact that he’s keenly aware how exposed his nipples are. The boots and hat, though, run counter to that argument, so maybe he’s just grasping at straws trying to dignify his slutty choice of evening wear.

The bar is pathetically stocked with lots of quarter-full bottles of bottom shelf liquor. The difference between college parties and mid-twenties parties is that in college, the counters were usually stocked with only two or three full bottles of the worst vodka and tequila imaginable and cases or kegs of beer, whereas mid-twenties parties are just stocked with the leftovers of whatever people bought on a whim just to try and now want to pawn off on their innocent party guests.

He surveys the options available and chooses a mostly full bottle of pomegranate wine. It doesn’t look like anyone at the party has bothered to taste it, which is fine with him. Wine drunk is his favorite kind of drunk anyway, and at least this way he doesn’t have to search around for mixers to make any of the other options palatable. He fills a blue Solo cup all the way to the rim (another thing about post-college parties: people don’t seem to want to use the red cups anymore) and takes a sniff. It’s surprisingly inoffensive, so he takes a sip, and to his delight finds that it’s actually pleasantly sweet. What a relief.

“Just getting off of work or something?”

Shiro whirls around at the sound of someone speaking to him nearby. The music is audible from the other room, but not so loud that he can’t have a conversation in the kitchen.

“What?” he says before his brain can process what he’s seeing.

The guy looks him up and down, obviously assessing, and raises an eyebrow. It hits Shiro then exactly who is talking to him.

“Oh my god,” he breathes. “Keith?”

The guy’s eyes soften a little as a small, familiar smirk turns up one corner of his lips. “Hey, Shiro.”

All at once, Shiro’s heart begins to hammer in his chest. “Oh my god,” he says again. “I can’t believe it’s really you. What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t even care that he sounds completely star struck; he’s too overwhelmed with the knowledge that Keith is somehow here, at this random party that his rat-fink friends dragged him to.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Keith retorts. “What’s with the stripper look?”

Shiro feels his ears heat up. He knows they’re beat red, and in the fluorescent kitchen lighting, he knows Keith can probably tell.

“I’m not a— it’s— I’m a sexy fireman,” he mumbles. “I thought it was a costume party.”

Keith throws his head back and laughs, full and bright, in a way that Shiro can only recall seeing a handful of times before. “What gave you that idea?”

“Matt and Veronica—”

“Ah, Matt,” Keith interrupts. “Never mind, enough said.” His smile turns smaller and more teasing, a little more secretive, and the way Shiro’s heart performs somersaults in response should probably be more embarrassing than it is.

They’re dangerously close to running out of things to talk about, and Shiro starts to worry that he might not get another chance to see Keith like this or talk to him again if the conversation dies down now. He wracks his mind for something to say when he remembers that Keith never answered his question.

“So, I’ve told you how I ended up here. What’s your story?”

Finally, his panic starts to die down as Keith casually leans against the countertop and takes a sip of his drink. It reminds Shiro that he still has a full cup in his hand, so he perches himself beside Keith and takes a long drink of his own.

“A friend dragged me here,” he says. “He tried to get me to wear a costume, too, but you know what they say. Fool me once...” He doesn’t finish the saying, but Shiro gets where he’s going with it, and it makes him smile.

“How bad was it?”

“Not as embarrassing as what your friends did to you,” Keith teases. “He invited met to Christmas with his family once and convinced me it was tradition for everyone to wear an ugly sweater to dinner. I showed up in a giant red sweatshirt with ornaments and tinsel hanging off of it while everyone else was in their nice, fancy dinner clothes.”

Shiro snorts into his cup at the mental image of Keith’s grumpy face in a jolly tacky Christmas sweater.

“Shut up,” Keith laughs. “You’re the one who showed up to a house party half naked.”

Maybe the whole cup of pomegranate wine he’s somehow managed to consume has already started catching up to him, or maybe he’s just comfortable in Keith’s company, but he finds he’s not as embarrassed about his appearance anymore. After all, he’s not even in the main room where most of the party is gathered.

“Whatever, you like it,” he says before he can stop himself.

He freezes momentarily, not even allowing himself to look over and gauge Keith’s reaction, but Keith just elbows him playfully in the ribs and drains the rest of his drink. It’s definitely not a bad reaction, but it’s also barely a reaction at all.

Shiro reaches for the bottle and fills his cup again. He ends up draining the bottle, which explains how the first cup has already started to get him a little tipsy — the cups are big enough to hold half a bottle of wine, apparently.

“Drinking to keep warm?” Keith asks. Again, he’s wearing that small, teasing smirk, and it absolutely _does things_ to Shiro’s insides.

Shiro hums noncommittally and shoots Keith a mischievous little smile of his own. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to drink if I had another way to keep warm.”

He’s pushing his luck and he knows it, but he can’t help it. He needs to know if there’s still something there.

Keith rolls his eyes and then trails them over Shiro’s body one more time before he sets his cup down and pushes off the counter.

“Well, maybe you should have worn your fire jacket, _Captain_.”

With a devastating wink, he saunters off into the other room, leaving Shiro waiting for his body to calm down and wishing his tiny pants were a little less revealing.

He’s not ashamed to admit that he’s moping slightly when he finds Matt again. Matt is standing in a corner — his natural habitat — watching the party more than participating in it. That’s one thing about Matt that Shiro’s always found interesting: he loves going to parties just to watch, but he hardly ever gets caught up in anything that’s actually happening.

“Who licked the red off of your lollipop?” Matt asks when Shiro slumps against the wall nursing his second full cup.

Rather than answering directly, Shiro just says, “You’d think showing up practically nude would make it easier to get guys, not harder.”

Matt snickers. “Someone turned you down? Seriously?”

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Shiro mutters. He hates to admit the truth in Matt’s teasing: people rarely turn him down. Usually, Shiro is the one turning down suitors whenever they go out, and he almost never approaches anyone himself. The few times since college that he’s actually initiated anything with anyone, they’ve always said yes.

“So, who’s the lucky guy?” Matt asks. Shiro sees him begin to scan the room. Shiro does the same.

His eyes land first on Veronica, who seems to be having an amazing time on the dance floor sandwiched between a tall, pretty girl with blue hair and a conventionally attractive tall-dark-and-handsome type of man. Shiro has definitely seen the guy before at one of the gay clubs nearby. He doubts Veronica realizes that the guy is definitely only there for the dancing and has no intention of going home with her after this, but he’s not going to spoil her fun. After all, the other girl seems interested enough.

He shifts his gaze to continue searching the room, but Matt finds his target first.

“No way,” he says. “Is that—?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, shit.” Matt turns to him now, and Shiro doesn’t even want to see the concerned look Matt is probably shooting him. “He turned you down?”

Shiro sighs. “Not exactly. He just... didn’t really seem interested, I guess.”

“Oh, Shiro,” Matt huffs, fond but exasperated. He doesn’t elaborate, but Shiro can tell that he’s missing something important.

“What?”

Matt shakes his head. “You’re gonna have to figure this one out on your own. You know I can’t help when it comes to Keith.”

It irritates Shiro to no end, but Matt’s right. Keith is the kind of guy who needs to be figured out. His walls are a mile high and double thick, and he’s never appreciated the kinds of he-said-she-said games that surrounded relationships in college.

Shiro sips his fruity wine and sighs again. Maybe he’s being dramatic (or at least, that’s what Matt’s unamused eyebrows would suggest), but getting his heart broken the first time had been bad enough. If he goes over there now and puts himself out there again just to suffer the same fate, he worries it might not survive a second shattering.

He watches the party until he’s tipsy enough to feel the wine moving through his body like dancing juice. He starts swaying where he stands, then moving a little more purposefully to the music, and by the time he’s finished his cup and has placed it on a random piece of furniture beside him, he can’t help the way his limbs move of their own accord.

Shiro drifts onto the dance floor and lets his body move the way it wants to. He doesn’t care that he has no one to dance with. At this moment, he doesn’t even care that he probably looks like an actual stripper, in his suspenders and shorts, moving his hips to the beat and letting the music move him.

Every now and then he finds himself with company, but he doesn’t pay his dance partners much attention. Veronica joins him for a little while and even manages to drag Matt onto the floor for a few minutes, but he’s lost in his own world. He just lets his mind wander for song after song, wishing Keith would join him, but knowing every time someone new approaches him that it’s not the person he wants it to be.

He tires out after a while, sweaty and a bit more sober after working out his restless energy. The song he’s currently dancing to fades out, and before the next one starts, he drifts back against the wall with Matt.

“You need to talk to him before you miss your chance,” Matt tells him, more seriously than usual.

“I’ve already missed my chance,” Shiro says. “I missed it when I graduated, and he didn’t fight for what we had.”

Matt grunts in annoyance and pushes off the wall, headed toward the kitchen. “Get your head out of your ass, Shiro.”

Once again, Shiro knows he’s missing something, but his still buzzed mind refuses to clue him in on what.

Without Matt’s presence acting as a buffer, he’s approached by the guy he’d seen dancing with Veronica earlier.

“Hey,” the guy says. Shiro nods. “I saw you out there earlier.” He very obviously appraises Shiro’s body, making him feel exposed in a way that didn’t bother him when it was Keith looking at him that way. “You look good.”

“Thanks,” Shiro grunts. He doesn’t think he’s putting off particularly friendly vibes, but the guy doesn’t give up that easily.

“How about another dance?” The guy holds out a hand, clearly expecting Shiro to take it and follow him back out onto the floor.

“Thanks, but I think I’m done dancing for the time being.”

It should be enough to get the guy to leave, but he doesn’t. “Come on, don’t try to get all shy now. Not after showing up dressed like that.”

All at once, Shiro switches from annoyance to discomfort. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, trying to feign any kind of modesty he can manage. “No thanks,” he says, tone steely.

The pushy guy takes a step closer, crowding him against the wall. Shiro is a big guy, and it generally takes a lot to make him feel imposed upon, but the guy he’s talking to is big, too, and right now he feels like he’s using it to his advantage to try to intimidate Shiro into being into him. In the back of his mind, Shiro wonders how often this tactic works on other guys.

He’s about to get defensive when a familiar voice beside him says, “He said no. Back off.”

Shiro snaps his gaze to the side to find Keith standing there. To anyone else, he might look stern but calm, but Shiro can recognize the fury burning behind his eyes.

The guy looks down on Keith, literally. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. My friend said he’s not interested. You need to respect that and back the fuck off.”

The stranger looks between the two of them, lingering for a minute on Shiro, who is still looking at Keith. Keith’s implied threat must work, because he just scoffs and wanders back onto the dance floor to find someone else for the night.

“Thanks,” Shiro breathes, kind of embarrassed. “You’d think I’d be better able to handle myself against those kinds of guys.” He tries for a light-hearted chuckle, but it comes out very self-deprecating.

“You shouldn’t have to handle yourself,” Keith says. “People need to learn to back off when you tell them no.”

It sort of feels like he’s being defended and also chastised.

“Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry,” Shiro says, not daring to meet Keith’s eyes.

Keith lays a gentle hand on his elbow and moves closer, forcing Shiro to meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he says softly enough that only Shiro can hear, all of his previous anger melted away. “What are you saying sorry for?”

Looking at him now, Shiro doesn’t see annoyance. He only sees concern and bewilderment. It makes him feel confused, too. Hadn’t Keith been the one to walk away after Shiro came onto him?

“For— for earlier, in the kitchen. Not taking the hint. Not backing off.”

Keith still looks confused. “The hint?”

“Yeah, you know... I was trying to— I mean, it doesn’t matter. You obviously aren’t interested. I just... I dunno. Thought there might still be something here.” He gestures between the two of them to emphasize his meaning.

Keith sighs, the hand on his elbow tightening for just a split second before it drops. “Oh, Shiro.”

“Why do people keep saying that?” Shiro asks, the nagging feeling of _just not getting it_ becoming an irritating pest taking bites out of his Halloween.

“Shiro,” Keith says, deceptively calm. “I was flirting with you.” He looks at him, long and hard, then rolls his eyes when Shiro can’t find it in himself to react. “Did you seriously not know that? Has no one ever flirted with you before?”

Shiro shrugs, feeling a little indignant. “People flirt with me all the time, Keith. I know what flirting looks like.”

“Obviously not,” Keith smirks.

“I knew that guy a few minutes ago was flirting with me! And the people dancing with me before that!”

The look on Keith’s face is almost pitying. “Shiro, those people were _throwing_ themselves at you. Is that how everyone behaves around you?”

Shiro knows that it’s more than his ears that are bright red by now. “I—I mean...” How is he even supposed to answer that? The answer is yes, of course, but he can’t just... _say_ that.

Keith sighs again and sags against the wall. He almost seems resigned when he asks, “Why would you even begin to think I wouldn’t be interested in you, after everything?”

But that’s just it; that’s exactly why Shiro would think that. “Keith, after everything? When I graduated, I still wanted to be with you. You turned me down.”

“What?”

_What?_

“What? What do you mean, ‘what’?”

“Shiro, I told you I _loved_ you. How much clearer could I have been?”

_WHAT?_

“YOU— You _apologized_ to me! How was I supposed to take that?”

“I apologized because when I told you I loved you, you didn’t say anything! I thought you didn’t love me back!”

“Of course I love you back!”

They both stop to take in this information, apparently new on both sides. Keith is the first one to break the stunned silence.

“Wait, ‘love’? Present tense?”

If Shiro knows one thing, it’s to never lie to Keith. Even if he wanted to, he’d be paralyzed against those big, dark eyes looking at him with something dangerously resembling hope.

He turns to the side and tentatively takes ones of Keith’s hands in his.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Present tense.”

Keith turns too and steps closer. “Really? After so much time?”

Shiro nods. “Of course. There’s no one in this world or any other who could compare to you, Keith. You’re my soulmate.”

“You big dumb sap,” Keith says wetly. “Why couldn’t you tell me that four years ago?”

“Because I’m dumb?” Shiro offers.

Keith doesn’t let him speak anymore. Instead, Shiro finds himself with Keith’s arms around his neck, his own arms around Keith’s waist, and the achingly familiar press of Keith’s lips against his.

Someone whistles at them in the distance. Shiro can’t bring himself to care.

When they break apart, Shiro refuses to let Keith move any farther away than necessary. “God, I’ve missed you,” he says.

“Me too,” Keith whispers.

Shiro is on cloud nine. Whatever he thought might happen when he agreed to come to this stupid party in this stupid costume, it definitely wasn’t this.

Keith’s fingers rustle through the hair on the back of Shiro’s head, his thumb occasionally grazing the tip of Shiro’s ear. It makes him shiver; he’s alway had sensitive ears.

“It’s cold out,” Keith says, apropos of nothing.

Shiro hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

“You must be freezing,” Keith tries again. Whatever he’s trying to say, Shiro doesn’t get it, too focused on how it feels to be this close to Keith again after so long.

“Shiro,” Keith says, a little more purposefully.

Shiro kisses him, and Keith kisses back before breaking apart again with a little laugh that makes Shiro shiver again.

“Come on, let’s get out of here, Captain.” Keith kisses him one last time, then drops his hands to lace his fingers through Shiro’s. “Let’s go say our goodbyes. We have some catching up to do.”

“Yeah, we do.” Shiro couldn’t agree more.

They say goodbye to Keith’s friend first. He must have heard of Shiro before, because he doesn’t seem surprised when Keith tells him they’re heading out for the night — at least, Shiro hopes that’s why he’s not surprised. They find Veronica next, who shoots him a lecherous wink and tells him to “have fun, big guy,” much to Shiro’s humiliation. Matt catches his eye across the room and sends him a warm smile a three-fingered wave. The hand in Shiro’s squeezes around his fingers, and then they’re off.

Keith leads him to his apartment — a different apartment now, four years later, new to Shiro but still familiar in the way that Keith will always be familiar to him — and produces an old sweatshirt when they walk in the door. It’s Shiro’s that he’d given to Keith when he first realized he loved him. He feels misty-eyed thinking that Keith has kept it within arm’s reach this whole time.

He pulls it on and relishes how it smells like Keith now. He looks around and sees a number of markers of their previous relationship — the stuffed hippo he’d won for Keith at their university’s annual fair, a mug on the counter that Shiro had gotten him for Christmas, an end table from a yard sale they had gone to together.

Keith seems like he’s doing the same thing: remembering the good times they spent together and basking in the joy of knowing they can make new memories together again.

“It’s good to have you back,” Keith tells him.

Shiro smiles. “It’s good to be back.” Because that’s where he is. He’s back now, reunited with the love of his life. He’s home.


End file.
